


believe in a void

by ikuzonos



Category: Dangan Ronpa, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Virtual Reality, F/M, NDRV3 Spoilers, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-03-01 02:14:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13284783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikuzonos/pseuds/ikuzonos
Summary: [Major Endgame NDRV3 Spoilers]because that's all that they could see in us.-Kirumi and Shinguuji have a bad night.





	believe in a void

**Author's Note:**

> god i. i don't know. its 10pm just take this and judge me

Bad night. Bad enough that despite lying down with her eye closed for hours, Kirumi couldn’t manage to sleep. Whenever her tired eye flickered open, it met the same teal walls and slanted ceilings as before.

A shiver ran down her back. Kirumi tugged her cardigan tighter, but she remained cold even with the added fabric. She had taken to wearing sweaters to bed recently, as her partner could never handle more than one blanket on the bed.

Not that she blamed him. Not that she even  _ could. _ She had developed strangers quirks than a need to control the temperature in the past few years.

Years. How strange it was to reflect on the fact that over a thousand days had passed since her initial revival from the depths of hell. It seemed like only yesterday.

Kirumi rolled over on the bed, her hand reaching out to the other side of the mattress. When she found only the slightly wrinkled sheets, she turned her head too.

Soft moonlight drifted into their bedroom, as did a light chill from the ocean below. She supposed that played a part as to why she was so cold.

She rose from the bed in near silence, taking in a sharp breath when her bare toes brushed the cold floor. Kirumi took a moment to take the sensation in, then stood up and crossed the wooden panels.

For a moment, Kirumi clung to the open glass doors that lead to the balcony, the curtains blowing in the breeze. She could see him standing outside, leaning against the rails as the wind tossed his hair around.

“Shinguuji-kun?” Kirumi said, before covering her mouth. They’d gotten on a first name basis a long time ago, but the old formalities didn’t want to leave her.

Shinguuji turned his head, “Did I wake you?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Kirumi said, letting go of the door and stepping onto the balcony. The stars above them were tiny pockets of fire amidst a sea of inky darkness.

Below, the ocean roared. Salty waves crashed into the sandbanks, dissolving any trace of life that may have lurked on the beachfront.

Shinguuji returned his gaze to the water, “I had that dream again. I couldn’t bear to be inside, not surrounded by all the… I needed some fresh air.”

Kirumi nodded. She often dreamed of the crowds, of the thorns piercing her skin as she climbed to a futile goal, and would awaken with blood in her mouth.

“You should go back to bed, Kirumi,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear, “Don’t worry about me. I won’t be much longer.”

Kirumi placed her hand on top of his, “You’re shaking.”

Shinguuji closed his eyes. He had stopped wearing his mask at night, and apparently hadn’t bothered to put it back on considering the late hour. Each facial scar stood out against his skin like a bullet impacting a canvas. Kirumi moved closer to him, leaning against his shoulder.

“I hope you’re not pitying me,” he murmured.

Kirumi responded, “I would never. But I know that I couldn’t fall asleep knowing that you’re still standing out here.”

Shinguuji hummed, “I see. I appreciate you feeling concern for me, but really…”

Kirumi asked, “Is something in particular bothering you? I want to help you… if I can.”

Shinguuji let out a long sigh, “It’s merely what festers in my own mind. I couldn’t bear to plague you with what goes on in my head.”

“How could what I think about be any worse?” Kirumi challenged.

A beat. Then Shinguuji spoke again.

“Do… Do you think that they still hate me?”

It wasn’t hard to figure out who he was talking about. Kirumi had already died - or rather, been executed - by the time that his murders of Angie and Tenko had come about.

(It was strange to think they they’d all died before, even if it was in a virtual reality simulation. For Kirumi, it only served to make it feel more real.)

“We know that Angie-san doesn’t,” Kirumi said carefully, gripping the top of the railing with her right hand, “She told you as much herself.”

“She could have merely said that to ease my mind,” Shinguuji replied, “And even if she does forgive my sins… I’m deeply certain that Chabashira-san never will. And that is what concerns me the most.”

Kirumi said softly, “That may be true. But your self-worth shouldn’t rest on how the others feel about you. I know that Hoshi-kun hasn’t forgiven me.”

“Mm,” Shinguuji said, “I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

For a moment, the only sound was the water coming inland, slapping the ground with a deafening force.

Then, Shinguuji spoke again, “Could you turn to me for a moment?”

Kirumi did so, tilting her head slightly, “Is something the matter?”

“No,” Shinguuji said, then paused, holding his hand up to her face, “Ah… may I?”

Kirumi nodded, and with delicate fingers, he adjusted her eyepatch so that it was snug over the empty eye socket. He stepped back after, seemingly unsure of his handiwork.

Unconsciously, Kirumi’s own hand moved up to brush the rough fabric. What he’d done had been helpful, though she hated being aware of her face, the same as he hated attention drawn to the area around his mouth.

She took a deep breath. She couldn’t have expected to hide the wound with her hair forever.

“Thank you,” she whispered, before looking back out at the ocean. In the few moments that it was still, she could see all the constellations reflected in it.

Shinguuji returned to her side, his arm pressing against hers. Kirumi briefly considered clinging closer to him, but decided not to push it. The last thing that he needed on a night like this was warmth.

He murmured softly, “Kirumi. I know I told you to go back to sleep, but…”

Kirumi smiled, “I’ll stay.”

“Only a little longer,” he insisted, “You need sleep.  _ I _ need sleep.”

Kirumi said, “We both do. But I don’t mind staying out here if you need me.”

Shinguuji shifted his hand to entwine their fingers, “Thank you.”

They stayed locked together on the balcony, watching as the sky bled into the ocean, and the stars faded into oblivion. 

They were strangers, to the world, to their so-called classmates, to themselves. But not each other. And that was really all that people like them could ever hope for.

Kirumi tightened her grip on his hand.


End file.
